


It's a Wonderful Afterlife!

by Sir_Thopas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Robots, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-21
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-26 09:43:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Thopas/pseuds/Sir_Thopas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moaning Myrtle intended to haunt the bathrooms of Hogwarts for all eternity. However, by the 58th century Hogwarts is no more and Myrtle must make her way through a brave new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Myrtle looked at all the smiling happy faces that surrounded her. If she still had a body she'd shove their heads into her toilet bowls.

Why did they get to be alive and happy? She'd never been happy in her life- or unlife for that matter. It wasn't fair that she had to die. She didn't do anything wrong. Nothing bad enough to warrant being killed horribly in a bathroom. Myrtle eyed the students suspiciously; they were probably laughing at her behind her back. Weepy, whiny Myrtle. Don't go in her bathroom! You might have to actually talk to her.

Nobody ever wanted to talk to her. She was lonely. Who would have thought being dead could get this lonesome? She had never had any friends, at least not since him. Myrtle smiled to herself as she turned her thoughts to Draco Malfoy. If she still had blood she would have blushed. She never really understood why people had always insisted that he was bully. He was always nice to her. That year – how long ago was it now? – had been one of the best she ever had. It had been nice having someone turn to her for advice and comfort. She had never comforted someone before Draco. She liked it. She liked him.

Myrtle's eyes fell upon a tall blonde boy walking with his friends. She quickly ducked through a wall and entered another wing, scaring a couple of second year girls as she went. Of course, Draco was old now. He had a son, Scorpius. Myrtle scowled, tears already springing to her eyes as she thought about Draco's wife. Myrtle had met loads of girls like Astoria Greengrass: pretty, popular, and perfect in every way. Myrtle snorted to herself. What did Astoria have that she didn't? Alright, so she was alive. Myrtle didn't think having an actual body was all that great. Eventually it would get fat and blubbery and her joints would begin to ache. Myrtle would always remain the same age.

Myrtle had never actually talked to Astoria, but she was sure she was just like Olive Hornby. Myrtle remembered how beautiful Olive was. Everyone wanted to be Olive's friend, even Myrtle. But Olive just laughed and teased her and then would get so angry when Myrtle started to cry. She would yell at her, tell her it was just a joke and not to get all upset. She accused Myrtle of deliberately making her feel guilty. Myrtle had often wished that she would get eaten by a thousand live centipedes. Then came the day she died. Olive made some horrible joke about her pimples and Myrtle had run off into the girl's bathroom, only to be met with two glowing red eyes. She remembered Olive coming into the bathroom and the way she screamed when she saw her body lying on the floor, dead. If Olive had never said those horrible things, Myrtle would have never gone to the bathroom and the ghost had never let her live it down. For years she followed her, breaking her down bit by bit until she too cried. Myrtle smirked to herself; revenge was delicious.

Of course Olive was dead now too, and yet Myrtle was still here and she wasn't. She wondered at how some wizards and witches became ghosts and others didn't. Did the others get an afterlife too or was this all there was? Sometimes Myrtle wished that she could just disappear and go wherever they went, but more often than not she clung to her bathroom. She didn't want to die; being a ghost might not be much of a life but it was all she had.

Myrtle blinked at her surroundings. There were so few students and none of them were smiling. What year was it? How much time had passed? It was so hard to keep track of the dates and the year when one was dead. She watched the students and teachers scurry through the halls like mice, avoiding bits of broken stone and pulling their cloaks tighter around their bodies in an attempt to keep out the cold. The wind howled through the broken windows and made the flames in the torches jump.

Myrtle wondered if the dead were happy. She sure wasn't, but she hoped her mother was. How long had it been since her mother died? Myrtle couldn't remember. She couldn't remember her father either. Her mother always said that he had died when she was just a baby, but Myrtle was pretty sure he had just run off. Myrtle had grown up poor and unhappy and Muggle; her mother was a telephone operator and spent all her time working. It was hard having only a mother; all the kids at her primary school had made fun of her because of it. Then, at Hogwarts, everyone had made fun of her for being Muggle and ugly and a crybaby. Myrtle had never gotten the courage to visit her mother after her death; she didn't think the woman would have been able to handle seeing what her daughter had become. How terrible it must have been for her, to lose her only child. Myrtle wished she'd been able to say goodbye.

Myrtle suddenly stopped her floating. She was starting to feel weak. She felt like if she continued on she would disappear – truly disappear – into nothing. What was wrong with her? This had never happened before. Myrtle looked around, trying to find help but saw no one. There was no one in the school. She scanned the deserted, dirty halls, trying to figure out where everyone had gone. Leaves were blowing across the cold stone from outside; there had been a wall there, she was sure of it. She could see the rocks strewn across the ground where they had once served as the castle's foundation. Myrtle wandered the desolate castle in search of someone… anyone. When had Hogwarts fallen into ruin? The enchanted staircase had collapsed and the roof of Gryffindor Tower had fallen in. Where were the students? The teachers? The house-elfs? For that matter, what had happened to the other ghosts? Myrtle peered about in search of her fellow dearly departed. Now that she thought about it she realized she hadn't seen Nearly Headless Nick or the Fat Friar or Peeves in a very, very long time. But what about the Grey Lady and the Bloody Baron? She thought she had seen them lurking in some dark corridor not too long ago.

Myrtle flitted through the ruined castle quickly in a desperate search for the two ghosts. Something was wrong, something had happened and she was starting to feel weak and faint. Myrtle took a sharp corner when she heard something clatter against the stone and soft cursing. Ha! There was someone! She wasn't alone! Myrtle raced towards the sound, happy that she hadn't been left here all by herself and came to a dead stop when she saw who it was. It was a dark-haired woman maybe in her mid-twenties wielding some strange Muggle device. She was wearing a silver jumpsuit that showed off her curves with bits pink and turquoise flashing through. Myrtle had never seen an outfit like that. Who was this person?

The woman stood up and peered at Myrtle curiously. Whoever she was she didn't seem particularly frightened by her. Was she a witch? She must be if she was at Hogwarts. The wards would have kept any Muggle from entering. The woman fiddled with her device as she looked Myrtle up and down. "A hologram?" She muttered. "In a medieval castle? This will send the boys at the University through a loop."

Myrtle didn't know what the word 'hologram' meant, but she was sure it was an insult. So, she did what she always did when someone was being mean to her. She cried. "Oh, yes, make fun of Moaning Myrtle," she blubbered. "No need to care about her feelings. She's just a hologram apparently."


	2. Chapter 2

The girl blinked confusedly at Myrtle's watery outburst. "How strange. Why would they give a hologram such an unpleasant personality?"

"I'm not a hologram!" Myrtle half-sobbed, half-yelled. "Stop making fun of me!"

"Err," the girl shrank back from Myrtle's outburst. "Program, cease application. Um, Computer! Stop all holographic functions! … Please?"

Myrtle sniffled as the girl continued to yell strange words into the empty air. Was she insane? Well, at least that made the ghost feel a little bit better. It was one thing to be insulted by someone like Olive Hornby, but being insulted by a crazy person was quite another thing altogether. It was not like lunatics actually mattered, or anything.

"Look, are you going to help me out or not?" The girl huffed. "How do I shut you down?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Myrtle snipped. "And I don't care. I don't want to talk to you anyway."

The girl just sighed and shook her head. "What an odd hologram. What did they create you for?"

"Who? My parents?" Myrtle asked. This girl was so weird. Didn't she know anything? "They didn't create me for anything. I was an accident."

The girl burst out laughing at that. Myrtle didn't think it was funny, but she bit back her tears. She didn't want to send the girl into another fit. She had quite enough of her nonsense words already. If she wasn't the only other person around Myrtle would have left by now. And, at any rate, she still felt oddly weak. It was best to stay where she was. "Wow!" The girl said as she caught her breath. "Your personality is so detailed. I can't even imagine the amount of time it took to create you with such primitive machines. When were you made? The 39th century?"

"I don't understand what you're saying!" Myrtle complained. "And I was born on November 24, 1928 if that's what you mean."

The girl gasped and took a step forward. "Are you serious? 1928? That is the year you were created?" Myrtle floated away from the advancing girl, wary of the intense excitement that spread across her face. "Do you know what this means?" The girl demanded. "This is revolutionary! The University claims that the greatest technological advancement of the 20th century was the computer, but you! If they could make you then they must have been more advanced than even the University knows! And that means… Oh, God…" The girl's expression swung quickly from eager excitement to horrifying dread. "If the University knew you existed… I can't let them get you! You're too important!"

No one had ever called Myrtle important before, and now that someone had she wasn't too sure how she was supposed to act.

The girl was no longer looking at her, however, and had gone back to fiddling with her strange device. "I haven't found anything that could produce a wireless signal, but there must be some sort of machine around here that could generate you. I'm picking up all kinds of electricity and the occasional odd signal being transmitted in this castle."

Myrtle felt her eyes glaze over as the weird girl rambled on. Why couldn't she ever talk about anything interesting? Lunatics were so boring. At least she had stopped teasing her. "What's your name?" Myrtle asked, breaking through her strange rant. If she had to listen to her weird mumbling she might as well learn her name.

The girl blinked rapidly at the sudden question. "Oh, it's Lyra. Lyra Jamison."

"I'm Myrtle."

Lyra smiled, but before she could say anything a scream erupted somewhere in the castle and reverberated against the broken stone walls. Lyra jumped and twirled around, briefly brushing through Myrtle's legs. The strange girl gasped and turned to look up at the hovering ghost. "You're cold. How can you be so cold?"

Myrtle couldn't answer her. Her eyes were riveted to the scene unfolding before her eyes. A strange ghostly figure appeared before them. The apparition looked nothing like Myrtle; there was none of the detail, the substance, the intelligence in its eyes. It was merely the faint outline of a person, a woman to be exact, in a long, medieval gown. For a moment Myrtle didn't recognize her and then she realized. It was the Grey Lady. What had happened to her? She wasn't a ghost, not anymore. She was something else, something undefined. She looked like a shadow people sometimes saw out of the corner of their eye, a mere trick of the light.

Chasing after the Grey Lady was another malformed figure: the Bloody Baron, or at least what was left of him. Myrtle and Lyra watched in revulsion as the faint apparition caught up with his prey. There was a strange light glinting in the sun – his sword – that fell upon the hapless woman. Again and again, the ghostly blade struck the Grey Lady. She screamed. Then they were gone.

"What… what was that?" Lyra demanded as she turned dials and punched in numbers in her strange device. "Their signal was so weak; I'm surprised there was enough power to even generate those holograms. It's no wonder they cut off so suddenly! Were they a part of some sort of holographic theatre? Did they reenact the history of this castle?"

Myrtle opened her mouth to speak, but the only sound they heard was a scream. Again, the Grey Lady flew through desolate hall as the Bloody Baron trailed after her, ready to kill her once more. "They're recreating their deaths!" Myrtle breathed. "Over and over again. They're stuck in a loop." Is this what happened to ghosts? Did they eventually devolve until there was nothing left except for the mere afterthoughts of what they once were? Did they grow fainter and fainter until they just disappeared? Myrtle wondered if she too would eventually be like them. She already felt so weak. She hated dying; she never wanted to experience that again. Was this all happening because there were no more teachers or students living in the castle? It was the only thing that made sense to Myrtle. It was like without witches and wizards the magic of Hogwarts was slowly draining away. Not even Rowena Ravenclaw's staircase could withstand time without them. What had happened to everyone? Where did they go?

Lyra shook her head, unnerved by the scene repeating itself before her. "That's it. Let's go."

Myrtle couldn't help but start laughing. This girl really didn't know anything, did she? She must be a Muggle. "Go? I can't leave. I'm supposed to haunt this school. The Ministry said I had to. Besides, this is my home."

"Uh huh," Lyra said, obviously not bothering to pay attention to a word she was saying as she worked the device in her hands. Myrtle scowled at her. She hated being ignored. "Hold still," the Muggle commanded. "I need to upload your signal."

"What are you talking about now?" Myrtle huffed.

"Your signal. You're not being generated by a machine, which means you're just a signal caught up in the wireless. You know, a code. A line of numbers. I can intercept your signal and upload it onto this machine here," she nodded down at her device. "Just a second more…"

Myrtle frowned and crossed her arms. "I am not a bunch of numbers! Stop making fun-"

Myrtle never got to finish her sentence before she was pulled into a strange and dark place.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Myrtle wrenched open her eyes and found herself lying on her back and staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Wait a minute, Myrtle mused. How can I be lying down? I don't have a body.

"Ack!" Myrtle yelped as she leapt up. She held her arms up to her face in wonder. Those were definitely arms. Not silvery, see-through arms but real human pink-colored arms. Myrtle scrambled off of the cold metal table she had been lying on and fell to a heap on the floor. Walking! She had to remember she had legs that walked now. No more floating. Myrtle pulled herself to her feet and looked around, spying a little silver tray full of odd objects that glinted in the low light. The girl pushed the strange objects away and stared at her reflection in the tray. It was her face! The same dark hair, the same blemished skin, all of it. No glasses though. Myrtle touched the bridge of her nose delicately. She could feel the soft skin. She had forgotten what it was like to feel. Myrtle frowned at her reflection. She had been blind without her glasses, but now she could see perfectly. What was going on?

"Oh, I see the download is finally complete."

Myrtle turned to see Lyra standing there, smiling happily at her. "What happened?" Myrtle demanded. "Am I alive?"

Lyra laughed – mockingly, Myrtle was sure – at that. "Of course not! I used the code embedded in your signal to create an animatronic mold of your holographic form. It's really quite simple. It's all here in the kit." Lyra held up a box that said Mortimer's Build Your Own Android! Now in Green!

"What?" Myrtle asked. "I don't understand! I never understand anything you ever say! What happened? Am I alive or aren't I?"

"No, Myrtle," Lyra said with a shake of her head. "You're a robot."

Myrtle never understood when Lyra talked on and on about signals and codes, but she definitely knew what a robot was.


	3. Chapter 3

Myrtle ran her fingers against the cool, plastic wall. She could feel the slick texture slipping across her skin – synthesized organic plastic was what Lyra called it, not skin – and yet… It didn't feel quite the way she remembered. Myrtle curled her hand into a fist and pulled back, striking forward to punch the wall soundly. There was no pain. The rough, frigid wall had felt exactly the same on her unblemished knuckles as it had when she had gently stroked it with her fingertips. There was no bruising or blood, although little pieces of synthetic skin had peeled away to reveal something metal underneath. Myrtle turned her hand to and fro, watching the light glint off the metallic bone.

"You shouldn't do that," Lyra admonished. There was a strange expression on her face, like she was unsure about something. "It took hours to complete you."

"Being a ghost is very traumatic, you know," Myrtle snottily replied. "It's been forever since I've been able to touch something. And everyone is so mean to you when you're dead! No one ever notices you when you're ghost; they act like they can just see right through you… and all because you're see-through!"

Lyra sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her forefingers. "Look, can't you just… stop? All I want is simple answers to my questions; this personality program of yours is impeding my work. It was kind of cute in the beginning but now it's just annoying. What is the point of a hologram that can't even run basic computer programs?"

It took only three seconds before Myrtle broke out into a wail, manufactured tears streaming down her face. "Why are you so mean to me? You took me away from Hogwarts, put me in a robot body, and you keep calling me a hologram! I don't even know what that is!" Myrtle wished she was still incorporeal so she could simply float away and maybe find a nice toilet to haunt. Perhaps she would even take up residence in one of those classy toilets with a bidet. Anything to get away from this mean, rude girl.

"That's just it though!" Lyra protested. "I shouldn't have to explain what a hologram is. You are a hologram. You're just a line of numbers that I downloaded from cyberspace into an android body! God- Why am I even arguing with you?" The dark-haired girl broke off with a bemused expression marring her face. "You're not real. Your personality is merely a program; you don't argue with inanimate objects."

The thoughtless comment struck Myrtle like a physical blow. She sank heavily down onto a chair next to the girl's desk, staring at her with open-mouthed disbelief. She knew she tended to overreact to other people's comments; she just wanted to make them feel sorry for her. She had found that people usually went out of their way to be nice to her if she cried a lot. But no one had ever called her an inanimate object before. It was like she wasn't even human. Which I'm not, Myrtle mused darkly. I haven't been for a long, long time.

Myrtle blearily wiped away the tears that were running silently down her cheeks. How strange was that? They weren't even real tears. Just water that leaked from her android body's optic circuitry. Optic circuitry, two new words Lyra had taught her. Myrtle sniffled; even as a robot she couldn't seem to stop crying.

Lyra heaved a sigh at the pathetic sight in front of her, like she had just come to a realization that she really didn't like. She pulled up a chair – just as sleek and shiny and colorful as everything else inside her strange laboratory – to sit across from the girl. "You know most androids don't possess the option to cry in response to a statement or command," she stated softly. "They can go their whole existence without even knowing that their bodies are capable of such a function." Lyra sighed again, "I think I might understand why your creators gave you such a detailed personality. People are always trying to find a way to create life… like Frankenstein's Monster. The more human-like, the better as they say. Personally, I prefer my machines to be machines. Simple, direct… but you're not bad, I guess. You're very interesting. If I have to interact with you in a certain way to gain access your information, then I will." Well, Myrtle didn't exactly know what to say to that, but in the end she didn't have to since Lyra continued on without so much as a pause. "I've always been fascinated with history and the taboo nature of it. Ever since I was little I've been drawn to the unknown. Important people who suddenly drop out of the historical record, no one knows what happened to them, or strange nameless faces in photographs; just who are they and what did they do? No one can say. They've been permanently struck from the record, like some blight on the world. There are so many holes in our known past– holes that the University and the Government doesn't particularly want uncovered. I just want to know. You can help me with that. Will you help me?"

Myrtle sniffled and looked balefully at the woman in front of her. She remembered Draco needing help. She had offered it then, but he had refused. He'd been so determined to do it all on his own. "You talk like being a historian is a bad thing," Myrtle commented.

"Well, if you play the game right being a historian is actually quite a lucrative profession," Lyra explained. "But I've never been able to do that. When I first entered the University I was completely astounded. I had access to knowledge I didn't even know existed. But then I noticed some very strange things- no one was writing anything new. All of the University's great scholars were simply putting forth the same papers and articles over and over again- maybe they would change a word or two there, but the arguments and ideas were all the same. No one bothered to find out if all these great historical events actually happened the way the University claimed they did; they all just reiterated the same thing over and over, regurgitating the University's own words. Yet they would still receive the highest accolades for it!

"Anyway, when I was younger I noticed something very strange in the secondary school history books that the University issues. There is a very odd photograph of Prime Minister John Major from about the year 1995. Major is the only person in the photograph and yet he's not in the center; he's on the very far left with this huge empty space beside him. There's nothing special about the scenery, nothing to warrant the odd placement of the photograph's central figure. So, I decided to conduct my first research paper on that photograph. I scoured the country in search of an original negative and, if you believe it, I found one. It turns out that the photograph in our history books was doctored; originally there had been another man standing beside him. He was a funny-looking man who wore purple boots and a green bowler hat. Quite the character. I never did find out anything about him, other than the fact that he was obviously colorblind. I don't even know his name. I published my findings only for the University to suppress my work and throw me out of the forum for 'knowingly publishing slanderous lies and untruths.' Now, everyone treats me like I'm some crazy conspiracy lady." Lyra laughed bitterly at that.

"What do you need my help for?" Myrtle asked, intrigued by this girl's story.

"Because you were there. You're untouched by the University. You can tell me what actually happened," Lyra was practically vibrating with excitement. Suddenly she leapt up, startling Myrtle with her unexpected enthusiasm. "Wait right there!" She stated, gesturing emphatically for Myrtle to remain seated in her chair. "I'm going to go get something." With that she took off without even so much as a backward glance.

Myrtle huffed and glanced around her. The laboratory – if that was what it was – was so strange-looking and even a little intimidating. Everything seemed so sleek and shiny and made of colorful, translucent plastics. There were oddly shaped objects, round and bright, but Myrtle couldn't even begin to understand what they all were. Myrtle remembered her mother's parlor; it was so tiny barely three people could comfortably fit inside. The room had heavy dark furniture, pink floral wallpaper, and a small table that was covered in a yellowed crochet cloth that might have once been white years and years ago. She had thought it was the prettiest room in the flat. Lyra's room, however, gave her the shivers. She found it much too cold and impersonal. Where were the photographs of her family, the small baubles and keepsakes that she had collected over the years? Myrtle could find no evidence of Lyra in this room.

At the sound of the other girl's footsteps against the hard, iridescent floor, Myrtle perked up just in time to see Lyra walk through the arched doorway. She was carrying a strange metal lockbox in her arms. Lyra sat down again and opened its contents, carefully pulling away a small piece of velvet cloth that protected its precious cargo. Myrtle peeked inside and gasped. "You know what these are?" Lyra asked excitedly. "I've been to that castle before – the castle that I found you in – and conducted a few archaeological digs. It's where I found these artifacts. I was hoping you could help identify them."

Myrtle gently took the box from her and examined her findings. None of the objects were truly important or worthwhile, but they were a comfort to her nonetheless. Myrtle fingered a tarnished Sickle, ghosted over broken pieces of what was once a glass phial, and mused over a strange teacup of what looked to be mummified skin. A Transfiguration lesson gone wrong, no doubt. Nothing that Lyra had was truly extraordinary except for one priceless item: a wand. It looked weathered and ancient and, when Myrtle picked it up, she could tell that the wood had long since petrified. Would it still work? More importantly, could Myrtle still use magic if her body was no longer flesh and blood but now made up of metal and wires?

"Do you know what it is?" Lyra asked in a breathless stage whisper.

"Just an old piece of wood," Myrtle stated, dropping the wand with a look of disdain onto the desk beside her. "I don't even know why you kept it."

Lyra blushed at Myrtle's snide remark. "Well, I thought the shape was kind of odd-"

"You obviously know nothing about the 20th century then," Myrtle sneered. "But this…" The girl picked up the Sickle, its silver sheen faded to black. "This is interesting. What a very rare coin you have here. This isn't the usual Mug- er, this isn't the usual sort of money you see. It was a special coin made only on very special occasions."

"Really?" Lyra's face erupted into a large smile. "I was worried I might damage it by cleaning it, so I put it off. But now…" Lyra trailed off as she took her coin; her happy, oblivious smile still plastered across her face. She stood up and wandered off again, lost in thought.

Myrtle grinned maliciously as she snatched up the wand and trailed after the unknowing girl. If I hadn't been Muggleborn, I'd have been in Slytherin, Myrtle mused as she peeked around the corner. She saw Lyra in another sterile, blank room, studiously bent over a work desk cleaning the useless coin. Myrtle quickly snuck past and made a mad dash to freedom.

Myrtle found the exit and pushed open the door that led to the outside. She rushed out into the light only to come to a standstill. Just where exactly was she? Nothing looked familiar. It was a strange and bizarre city, hostile and frightening in its complete unknowable creation. Was she even in the United Kingdom anymore? Was she still on the same planet for that matter? The buildings were all squat domes made of the same colorful plastic that she had seen inside Lyra's home. Everyone sported form-fitting flashy outfits that shimmered and sparkled, the same that she had seen on Lyra; most of the women wore their hair in elaborate braids and updos. Just how much time had passed? Myrtle had assumed it was a couple of centuries, but the world couldn't have changed this much in just a few hundred years.

Myrtle shook her head. It didn't matter. There had to be wizards and witches. Just because Hogwarts had fallen didn't mean the entire Wizarding World had as well. You couldn't get rid of magic after all. She just had to find them. She couldn't let herself get scared and frightened. Besides what could happen to her? She was already dead; it wasn't like she could die again. With a determined nod Myrtle marched forth into the exotic city.


	4. Chapter 4

After an hour of wandering Myrtle had to concede that she was completely and thoroughly lost. The city was a never ending maze of curved and colorful arches and domes. The buildings bled into one another, making it hard distinguish one part of the city from the next. It was like walking inside a painting by one of those modern artists whom her mother used to always mock with derision. She had preferred the old masters to those nouveau painters who merely threw blotches of paint and mismatched colors onto a canvas and tried to pass it off as a lily pond.

"Hello, are you lost?"

Myrtle turned to see a strange-looking woman staring at her with a frozen smile plastered across her face. Everything about her seemed to shine and shimmer; her skin and hair were so smooth and perfect that it reminded the girl of a porcelain doll. She had once had one when she was very little. She had named her Millie and took her everywhere, much to her mother's chagrin, but by the time she left for Hogwarts the hands had long since broken off, leaving the poor doll an amputee. Myrtle couldn't bear to look at her broken body after that and left her hidden away inside her play chest. The woman's freakish unmoving expression and her slow-blinking eyes just made the comparison to Millie all the more powerful. "Um, well," Myrtle stammered, unsure of whether she should trust this strange creature. Whatever she was Myrtle could tell she wasn't human. She was too… unnatural. "Could you- would you be able to tell me where I am?"

"You are on Old Grimmauld Place," the woman chirped, cocking her head to one side, her smile never diminishing. "This street has existed since the days of Old London, although many of its ancient features have since been demolished and built over. If you are interested in learning more, please visit the University."

"Oh…" Myrtle breathed. Old London? This… this was London? How was that possible? Where were the old stone buildings, the ancient streets, the things left behind by the long-dead who had lived here thousands of years ago? It was as though the entire city had been wiped clean and started anew. No, this had to be some other London. It couldn't be her London. "You mean, London as in London, England?"

"Yes," The woman nodded once, stiffly as though the movement was unnatural. "City: London. County: England. Region: Greater North Europe. Planet: Earth of the Federal Planet Union."

"Wait!" Myrtle threw up her hand. "When am I? What year is it?"

"The year is 5732 by the Earth Calendar."

If Myrtle had been alive and not currently made of metal, she suspected she might have fainted. Her mouth gaped open and her mind was screaming at her to take in a deep breath before she collapsed but nothing happened. She had no lungs; she couldn't breathe if she wanted to. It was the same when she was a ghost. When she had cried she would try to suck in a deep breath, but nothing ever happened. Her mouth would simply hang open like a gaping fish. Myrtle knew that she had been trapped in Hogwarts for a very long time, but for over three thousand years? She tried to imagine all those days she had lived through, unaware of the passage of time, but she couldn't. It was inconceivable.

"Do you require assistance?" The strange woman inquired. "I do not understand that expression you are making. Are you ill?" The woman reached out and delicately touched her cheek. The woman's skin was cool and smooth – unnaturally so. The odd woman pulled back almost immediately at the slightest brush of skin and cocked her head. The frozen smile slipped from her face, leaving behind a blank, neutral expression with dead doll eyes. "Correction: Non-human." She intoned, more to herself than to Myrtle, and turned away as though Myrtle was invisible.

Myrtle watched her wander off, shocked and unsure. It took her much longer than it should have for her to realize that the woman was not a woman at all; she was an android, like Myrtle was supposed to be. Myrtle tore her gaze from where the android had disappeared into the crowd and gave a start as she realized that there was a man standing by one of those strange, brightly colored domes and staring at her with a quizzical expression. He was a tall man in what appeared to be a gray uniform. He sported a silvery badge that distinguished him from the rest of the crowd but what Myrtle focused on was the strange gun-like weapon that hung at his hip. When their eyes locked he moved forward. Myrtle could feel herself freezing up in fear; she knew she should run, but she couldn't think, couldn't move. All she could do was stand there, staring up at him in awe. "You're a strange android, aren't ya?" He drawled out, looking her up and down in suspicion. "I thought you were human at first until that tin can stated otherwise. What's your registration?"

"I-I-I..." Myrtle stammered, desperately trying to think of something – anything – to make this man leave. What did he mean by registration?

The man narrowed his eyes at her. "What's the matter? On the fritz?"

"Yes, I was just taking her to the recycler now,"

Myrtle nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Lyra's voice behind her. She felt Lyra grasp her by the shoulders in a vice-like grip as the woman smiled up at the man. "It was a failed experiment. Don't worry; it's completely harmless, though it does have a tendency to wander off." Lyra gave out a laugh, high and fake.

"So, then, this bot belongs to you? You've got its registration on you?" The man – obviously some sort of police officer or other authority figure – demanded.

"Who? Me?" Lyra gave an awkward, lopsided grin before waving him off. "Oh, no, this android belongs to my boss. I'm just taking it to the recycler for him. I tell you, I was hired to be the man's secretary but I might as well be his maid! You know how it is!" She smiled and gave that irritating laugh again, but the man seemed to believe her story.

"Just make sure it doesn't wander off again," he chastised and walked off.

Myrtle felt Lyra clamp down hard on her arm as she began to lead her away. "Just what did you think you were doing?" She hissed. "Do you know how much trouble I could have gotten in if the police found out I've got an unregistered android walking around? I can't afford the fine! I can barely pay my rent!" Lyra huffed in annoyance. "What were you doing anyway?"

Myrtle wrenched her arm out of her grasp and sniffled. "I was just trying to find my way home, no thanks to you."

Lyra blinked owlishly at her, her mouth turning down in a confused frown. Myrtle recognized that it was the same expression Lyra always got when she did something that was too-human for the woman to comprehend.

Myrtle sighed. She was going to get nowhere with Lyra acting like this. She needed to take a different approach. "Look," Myrtle began again, forcing the hysterical tears deep down inside. "The robot woman said that this was London. I'm just trying to find the old London that I knew, not… this." Myrtle gestured around them at the unreal domes and oddly colored structures all around them.

Lyra gave her a slightly patronizing, wry smile. "I'm afraid all of that was destroyed a long time ago. Over a thousand years ago, at least."

"What?" Myrtle gasped.

Lyra kicked the ground, scuffing up the silvery surface of the street with her boot. "Yeah, I know. All that history: gone. Some people just can't see the worth in old things. The whole city was leveled during the Great Revolution. People just wanted a clean start; wipe away everything that had been dark and horrible to make way for the future. The start of a brand new humanity. You know," Lyra looked down at Myrtle haughtily; ready to launch into another lecture on the merits of history and the plight of her own chosen profession. "People just-"

"But they can't have destroyed it all!" Myrtle blurted out, interrupting the other girl's prepared speech. "They can't have destroyed Diagon Alley and the Ministry of Magic! It's protected by charms!"

Lyra gave a nervous laugh and looked around at the people walking by as though embarrassed by Myrtle's outburst. "Don't be silly. Magic doesn't exist." She shook her head at Myrtle's crestfallen face, no doubt to convey both her annoyance and her condescension towards what she no doubt believed was Myrtle's backward, primitive beliefs.

It was all so terrible. She didn't like this future world. And Lyra! She was worst of all! Myrtle hated her. All she wanted to do was cry. She wanted to yell and sob and make Lyra feel terrible for ever calling her names like 'hologram' and 'object'. But that would cause unwanted attention and although Myrtle wasn't positive about what a 'recycler' was, she knew she didn't want to be taken there. So, instead, Myrtle bit her lip and tried not to weep.

Lyra – oblivious to Myrtle's growing frustration – continued on. "I mean really, what kind of people download childish fantasies inside a hologram instead of facts and equations? I've never known a- ACK!"

Lyra looked up at Myrtle in shock where she lay prone on the street from the sudden push that Myrtle had given her. She hadn't even realized she had done it until she had seen Lyra lying there and her own hands outstretched. She had just made her so angry! Myrtle shifted her feet nervously, wondering if she should help her up. She had never pushed someone before. She had cried and thrown tantrums and could assign guilt and blame with just one look, but she had never once acted violently. True, she had simply knocked Lyra down, barely remembering her own strength in time, but even that was out of character for her. "Sorry," Myrtle mumbled, the unused word sounding foreign in her voice. When had she ever said 'sorry' to someone? Never. She had never needed to say it before. She had never done anything wrong; people were always being mean to her not the other way around! It was all Lyra's fault! Lyra and these stupid, ugly buildings and strange words that didn't make any sense. Myrtle glanced around at the people giving them passing glances in confusion and shifted her feet. "Sorry, but I have to find out what happened to the Wizarding World!" And with that she took off running, barely hearing the startled 'Hey!' and the sound of feet pounding against the street as Lyra chased after her.

Myrtle ran down the winding street, watching the buildings turn into a blur of color. She took a corner, fast, and nearly collapsed as she felt a strange hot jolt rush through her body. Myrtle fell to her knees, barely noticing as her metal body twitched and convulsed. She could feel the heat run through her and if she had been human Myrtle suspected that it would have been very, very painful. What was this? And why was it getting so difficult to think? Everything felt so hot. Myrtle could feel her thoughts wandering; some slipped away, only half-remembered, while others kept repeating themselves - What was this? And why was it getting so difficult to think? Everything felt so hot. – in her mind, leaving behind only a vague sense of déjà vu as they circled her thoughts and came back around again.

"Myrtle! Myrtle, what's wrong?" Myrtle heard Lyra kneel beside her and grasp her shoulders, only for the girl to pull back just as quickly with a yelp of pain. "You're shorting out! Your whole body is just… overheating!" She could hear the incredulity in Lyra's voice. "That kit had a three year warranty. I've never had a problem with their products like this before. What is going on?"

Myrtle wrenched her eyes open, only just noticing that she had closed them, and looked around. She saw Lyra sitting next to her, looking more bemused than worried as though Myrtle was nothing more than a puzzle she had to figure out than a person she needed to help. All around her were more of the strange, impersonal buildings, looming over her with their oppressive sterility. Myrtle turned her head, looking for an escape, when she saw it.

It was a house – a true and proper house – that sat nestled between a bright fuchsia dome and a turquoise pyramid. It was a town manor and looked as though it had once been attached to a whole row of buildings that had looked exactly like it, but it had since been left all alone. It was dark and ominous with black stone steps leading up to a door in badly need of paint and silver handles sculpted in the shape of snakes. The number 12 was blazoned across its side.

Lyra glanced up to where Myrtle was staring and frowned. "What?" She asked. "What is it?"

"That building…"

"The pyramid? The red dome? What about it?"

"No, no…" Myrtle wheezed. "The brick building. The house."

Lyra frowned at Myrtle and shook her head worryingly. "There is no brick house. I told you before, Old London was demolished. There's nothing left of it."

"You have to really look otherwise you won't see," Myrtle explained in exasperation. "It's magic. It makes your eyes slide over it, as though it wasn't there. Unnoticeable. Unplottable. But you can do it; I know you can." Myrtle nearly jumped as she realized that this was true. It had never occurred to her before, but then came the sudden epiphany jolting her thoughts like the electricity running through body. Lyra could see it if she tried. She saw Hogwarts after all, found its ruins despite the spells still locked in place after thousands of years. She had seen her, and it was so difficult to be noticed by Muggles. How strange. "Just follow me. I lead you to it." Myrtle stood up haltingly and slowly made her way up the stairs with Lyra following her every step. Myrtle vaguely wondered if the door was locked. Could she cast the Alohomora spell without a real body? Only one way to find out. Myrtle pushed the thought to the back of her mind as she grasped the handle. The moment her synthetic skin touched the cool, silver metal a brilliant light exploded behind her eyes before she collapsed into the darkness, unseeing and unthinking.


	5. Chapter 5

Myrtle slowly came to – turned on, her mind corrected – feeling very weak. She looked around, trying to get her bearings, and saw old wood paneled walls and stone floors. It took her a moment to register where she was. She was inside the old Wizarding house! She tried to jump to her feet, but her body wouldn't cooperate. Myrtle wouldn't say she felt tired, but there was a definite lag in her thoughts and movement. Her metal body seemed disconnected from her mind, as though it were only running at half-power. She felt hot, not as hot as she had before, but still hot like a searing summer day. Myrtle heard a strange whirring sound and belatedly realized it was coming from her. Some sort of internal fan that was trying to keep her cool? It didn't seem to be doing a very good job. Myrtle moaned as she sat up, needing to voice her complaints even though she wasn't in any real pain. She mainly just wanted attention.

It worked. She saw Lyra's bright white boots instantly come to stand beside her, sinking into the moldy old rug. Lyra leaned over to examine Myrtle, causing her dark hair to fall over her shoulders and create a curtain around them. Myrtle looked up into her face and noticed the slight hysterical look to her eyes. What had happened while she was out? "I patched you up as best I could," Lyra explained, her voice breathy and high, like she had just run a marathon. "I'm afraid I don't know much about repairing androids, just basic electronic stuff that I learned in school. I don't have the instructions that came with the kit, you see. Anyway, I think you'll be fine for right now, just don't do anything too strenuous. Also, there is a painting behind a curtain that yelled at me and called me a disgusting Muggle." Lyra gave a goofy, wild sort of laugh. "I don't even know what that means."

"I think you should sit down," Myrtle advised wearily, taking in the girl's funny expression and quick breathing.

Lyra nodded her head sagely, "Okay." And with that collapsed beside Myrtle, drawing up her knees up so she could tuck her head between them and breathe deeply.

Myrtle slowly pulled herself to her feet and looked around, taking in the dilapidated stone building. It was almost completely bare; what few pieces of furniture remained were broken and scattered. Myrtle was sure that no one had lived here for a long, long time. Myrtle heard a deep, shuddering sigh and looked down to see Lyra pulling her face up to look wearily around her, as though waiting for something to leap out and scare them. She seemed calmer though, and that was a relief. "Are you alright?" Myrtle demanded.

Lyra nodded slowly, looking up at her with shy eyes. "You really are a ghost."

Myrtle nodded, glad and relieved that Lyra finally accepted her for what she was. More surprising, she didn't seem scared of her. Just curious and amazed. Happiness bloomed in Myrtle's chest and she thought the warmth she felt wasn't just from her overheating system.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you before, it's just… Things like ghosts and magic aren't suppose to exist," Lyra tried to explain, before giving a sigh and a shrug. "So, anyway, sorry."

"I'm sorry too!" Myrtle blurted out. She didn't really know why she was apologizing, just that when Lyra had said it Myrtle felt she sort of needed to as well. "For… pushing you and everything."

Lyra smiled up at her and got to her feet. "Then it's settled," she said. "We're both very sorry and are determined to be better friends."

Myrtle wondered if her robot body could blush. Only one other person had called her a friend before and meant it, but he was long dead. Myrtle smiled at Lyra and glanced around, suddenly shy. She had been a child for a long time, but at that moment Myrtle felt very grown-up.

"I took a good look at the ground floor while your system performed internal repairs," Lyra explained as she came to stand next to Myrtle, her eyes examining the building with the practiced ease of a historian. "I've seen photographs of terrace houses like this. It has all the hallmarkings of being built sometime in the early 1800s, though I can't be sure. I'm not an expert on that period." Lyra threw Myrtle a sideways glance. "Do you think there are any spells or curses in this place?"

Myrtle nodded, wondering if she looked wise as she did so. She liked the idea of Lyra turning to her for information and knowledge about magic. It made her feel special and important. "It's possible, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to counter them," she confessed. "I mean, I was a witch when I was alive and I know the counter-spells, but with this body… I don't think I'll be able to cast spells."

"Why not?"

"Electricity and magic don't mix well," Myrtle explained. "That's probably why this body reacted the way it did when I tried to come inside. There is a lot of magic in this place and when it came into contact with the electricity and just… well… BOOM."

Myrtle watched as Lyra nodded at her explanation and moved toward the stairs, looking up at them longingly. She could see that Lyra was nearly quivering with excitement and curiosity and didn't like being told that it was too dangerous to explore. "Well, can I use magic then?" Lyra asked, turning back to look at her. "You said I shouldn't have been able to see that castle, but I did. Does that mean I can be a witch too?"

Myrtle hesitated. "It's possible, I suppose…"

"Great! Then you can just tell me whatever spell I need to do in case we run into any curses!" Lyra made it sound so simple.

Myrtle snorted and took on a patronizing tone that she had so often heard Lyra use. "It takes time and training to be able to cast spells properly. If you even have that ability."

Lyra looked forlornly at the stairs. "Then I guess we can't explore…"

Myrtle scowled. How would she ever find out what happened to the Wizarding World if her body was made of metal and her only companion was a Muggle? Possibly a Muggle, a thought whispered through her mind. Myrtle sighed and pulled out the ancient wand from her pocket, handing it over to Lyra. "Here, you'll need this."

Lyra frowned and narrowed her eyes. "I thought you said this was worthless."

Myrtle snorted again and waved her hand thoughtlessly. "Oh, I only said that so I could steal it. But it doesn't matter now, because we already said we're sorry and I'm not going to apologize again. It's a wand."

"Really? A wand?" Myrtle could tell by Lyra's wide, goofy smile that it was taking all that she had to treat this seriously.

"Yes. A wand. It should help you channel your magic. If you've got any, that is."

Lyra made a noise that was somewhere between a squeak and a squeal and took off towards the stairs with Myrtle at her heels, mindful of any holes and weak steps. They reached the first floor – a disgusting, disused ancient hallway – and Lyra pushed open the first door that they came to. The rotten door swung dangerously on its hinges as it revealed an empty room. There were a few candles on the floor and murals on the cracked plaster, but nothing else. There were not even cobwebs or dust or any of the other filth that they had seen downstairs and in the hall. That was what caught Myrtle's attention; someone had cleaned this room and recently too.

Lyra stood transfixed in front of a mural, studying the images with a feverish intensity. Myrtle looked and saw a group of figures huddled beside a tall dark-haired man with a glowing halo. There was a woman on either side of him, but the paint had faded so much that Myrtle couldn't make out any other details. There was a man with ugly, dingy brown hair standing slightly behind the haloed figure and clutching his shoulder. Myrtle couldn't tell if his hair color was supposed to look like that or if it was just caked with filth. There were two twin figures standing on one side with a pale woman holding a crown and an armored man lifting up a sword, offering it as though in tribute to the haloed man. On the other side was an old man being supported by two dark-haired, black-cloaked figures- a man and a woman. Standing a little behind the three were two other men, one whose hands were lifted to the heavens in supplication and the other bent over as though in pain and painted a strange blue color. It reminded Myrtle of 'The Last Supper'. "How odd," Lyra murmured. "Look at the religious iconography here. It seems to indicate that this man in the center is some sort of vegetation deity- a god associated with life, death, resurrection and the cycle of plants - but he doesn't look like Dionysus or Jesus or any of the other known vegetation gods. It's strange. The mural looks old and is definitely damaged in some areas, but if I had to guess I would say this came after the Great Revolution." She turned to look at Myrtle. "But that doesn't make sense. Nobody believes in those old religions anymore. Not sense before the Revolution. They're just a bunch of superstitions."

"You mean like magic and ghosts?"

"Nobody likes a smart aleck."

Myrtle paced around the room, growing bored as Lyra continued to study and make mental notes of the mural. This room was boring; it figured Lyra would be the one to find it fascinating. "Are you done yet?" Myrtle whined.

"Soon, soon..." Lyra murmured without bothering to look at her, her attention was fixated on the mural.

Myrtle sighed and walked up to the candles, vaguely thinking that it looked like an altar and came to a sudden stop. If she had a stomach she was certain it would have grown cold with fear as she suddenly noticed that something was very wrong. "Lyra… there was someone just here," she whispered as she pointed a finger at the thin line of smoke that rose from the candles. Lyra hurried over, her face pale with fright.

"Are they still here?" Lyra whispered back.

Suddenly they heard the rotten door slam shut, echoing loudly through the empty room. Lyra and Myrtle both screeched in fear as they turned around to see a tall man shuck off a silvery cape from his shoulders and drop it to the floor. He looked to be in his forties with thinning blonde hair, a well-trimmed beard, and a rather demure looking black jumpsuit compared to all the vibrantly colored ones Myrtle had seen on the streets. What the girl noticed most, however, was the wand he kept trained on the two of them.

"Myrtle, quick! What's a spell I can use?" Lyra whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"Expelliarmus."

Lyra suddenly jumped forward in front of Myrtle, brandishing her wand like a sword and yelled out "Expelliarmus!"

She stood there, her wand wavering, as nothing happened. Myrtle bit back a squeak. She'd been afraid of this. The man regarded Lyra coolly before giving his wand a simple flick and a muttered "Stupefy." Lyra crumbled to the ground, unconscious, her hand slack around the wand. Myrtle quickly snatched the thin strip of wood and held it out in front of her.

"Expelliarmus!"

The explosion was deafening. A wild POP! echoed against the walls as the circuits in her hand were overloaded with power and energy. The electricity and magic crashed into each other, causing sparks and small explosions. Myrtle turned her face away as bits of metal and synthetic skin flew in different directions, unable to bear watching her hand exploding from the inside. She barely noticed the man's wand flying from his hand as the spell worked its power, landing near her feet. Her own wand was destroyed along with her hand, and Myrtle collapsed to her knees beside Lyra's head, unsure of what to do.

The man stared at her in shock and wonder. "You're not a human. What are you? How can you use magic?" He demanded. "Why did you come here and defile this sacred space?"

"This is a church?" Myrtle breathed, clutching the shattered remains of her hand. She knew she couldn't feel pain, that it didn't really hurt, but she imagined it all the same.

"A temple to the God on High, Haripota."

Myrtle blinked owlishly as she turned to look at the mural. She knew that name, she did, but it just… it couldn't be. That would be silly. But there was the proof. What she had assumed to be a crack was actually a carefully drawn line on the haloed man's forehead- a line representing a lightning bolt. Myrtle burst into hysterical laughter. She couldn't help it. It was so funny! "Boy, have you got it wrong!" She cackled. "Harry Potter was nowhere near that tall!"


	6. Chapter 6

"These ropes pinch!" Myrtle whined. "And I'm cold!"

"Androids may be able to understand things like 'constricting' and sense when temperatures are below human range. However, they cannot feel discomfort from either of these. So, kindly, shut up and stop whining."

"Oh, sure, I suppose you think you can treat me anyway you want just because I'm an android. 'Oh, don't mind Moaning Myrtle! She's just an android, after all.'" Myrtle pouted. "Hey! Where are you going?"

The blond man ignored her, however, and, after checking their binds one more time, marched out through the arched doorway. Myrtle huffed in annoyance and stole a glance at Lyra, who remained unconscious by her side. Like Myrtle, Lyra had been bound to her chair by conjured ropes. Even if she was awake, she'd be of little help to Myrtle. The girl gave one last effort to wiggle out of her bonds, but it was useless; she had been bound tight and the loss of one of her hands only made things more difficult. Glancing around, Myrtle looked for anything that might be of use, but it was difficult to see. They were in some sort of tunnel, perhaps; it was too dark to make out much of anything and the candles that surrounded them didn't provide her with enough light.

Myrtle wondered if her robot body was equipped with a laser or some sort of penknife. She lightly kicked Lyra in the shin, hoping it would wake her so she could ask, but the girl slept on. Myrtle groaned and rolled her eyes, the boredom already beginning to fray her nerves. Or circuits, or whatever it is I have, Myrtle thought.

To Myrtle's luck, she did not have to wait long. Her hearing – improved by her cybernetic upgrade – could pick up the sounds of feet stomping against concrete. She was already straining against her bonds by the time the group arrived. The blonde man was walking side-by-side with an elderly woman, followed by a rather exuberant-looking crowd of about six, dressed all in blacks and browns as opposed to the brilliant-colored jumpsuits of the Muggles, and all eagerly staring at the pair of girls. The old woman lifted her wand and, pointing it at Lyra, gave a muttered "Rennervate."

"Ugh, wha?" Lyra murmured as she blearily opened her eyes. She jerked upright at the sight of the crowd in front of them; Myrtle suspected that she would have fallen straight off her chair if she hadn't been tied to it. "What's going on?" She demanded. "Who are you?"

"My name is Marian Weasley," the old woman stated, gesturing to herself and then to the blond man. "And this is my son, Septimus. Septimus tells me that he found you inside the shrine and that your android cast a spell with a wand."

"I-I-I…" Lyra stuttered, unsure of what she should say to this. Would telling the truth help them or just anger these people further? Lyra threw a glance at Myrtle, begging with her eyes to step in and say something.

"Look," Myrtle said. "My name is Moaning Myrtle. Perhaps you heard of me?"

The group of wizards and witches just stared blankly at her. She saw one witch turn to her companion, only for the wizard to shrug his shoulders in bafflement. Myrtle huffed and rolled her eyes at their ignorance. "I'm a ghost who haunted Hogwarts. You worship Harry Potter, you should know I helped him with the Second Task in the Triwizard Tournament! Oh, and I helped Draco Malfoy think of ways to kill Headmaster Dumbledore! Er, well, that one isn't a good example, I guess." Myrtle laughed awkwardly and hoped they wouldn't just Avada Kedavra them and be done with it.

Marian Weasley narrowed her eyes at Myrtle. "Do not blaspheme. We do not take kindly to mockery, nor do we tolerate lies."

"I'm not lying!" Myrtle protested. "I really did help Harry Potter! I am a ghost! Or, well, I was until Lyra put me inside this body."

"It's true," Lyra quickly interjected. "I thought she was merely a hologram at the time. Her data registered on my signaler when I entered the castle. I was able to download her stream right onto it and upload it into this body." The crowd broke into excited murmurings as they stared at Myrtle reverently. Myrtle preened under all the attention; it was nice having people actually respect her for once.

"You were at the old ruins?" Septimus sneered, although Myrtle could detect no small amount of incredulity. "You saw through the wards?"

"Uh, yes?" Lyra supplied.

"You couldn't even attempt at casting a spell," Septimus protested. "How could you see through the wards?"

"She must be Muggleborn and not a particularly strong one at that," Marian commented offhandedly. "The wards at Hogwarts have long grown weak. As untrained and powerless as she is, even she could probably see through them."

"What I'd like to know," Myrtle interjected before Lyra could protest their dismissal of her. "Is just what exactly happened to the Wizarding World? You're the first witches and wizards I've seen in… I don't even know how long! What happened to Hogwarts? Where's the Ministry?"

Marian and Septimus gave each other significant looks. Myrtle couldn't tell what the looks meant, but they obviously came to some conclusion as Septimus sighed and waved his wand. Immediately the ropes around their arms and torsos went slack and fell to the ground. Myrtle stood up and shook her arms to get rid of the pins and needles that she didn't actually feel.

"What happened to you?"

Myrtle felt Lyra grab her wrist, holding up the twisted bit of metal that had been her wand hand. "Oh, after you were Stupified I tried to cast a spell. It worked, but it also caused this."

Lyra frowned as she turned her wrist, examining it from all sides. "I'm sorry, but I can't fix this."

"I am not surprised the spell backfired. Muggle technology and magic do not mix," Marian stated as she regarded the burnt and twisted stub. "We have always known this and do our best to remain separated from it. You will not find androids or spaceships or anything that runs on electricity down here. It is an affront to magic itself."

"Where exactly are we?" Lyra asked.

"This is what used to be the London Underground, but it has been our home for the past four hundred years."

"The London Underground," Lyra breathed. "But… all of the tunnels were supposed to have been destroyed."

Marian looked at her coolly. "Yes, and we would prefer if the Muggles remained unaware that some tunnels have survived. Normally, we do not share our secrets with Muggleborns, or interact with them in any way. They are to be treated just like Muggles, but… this is a rather unusual situation. Besides, there are ways of rectifying this situation if it proves to have been a mistake." Marian turned then and Septimus indicated with a wave of his hand that they were supposed to follow them.

Myrtle saw Lyra pull back in fear at Marian's ominous-sounding comment. Myrtle bit back a laugh; of course, Lyra didn't realize that Marian was only referring to a simple Memory Charm. Probably.

"The Wizarding World of your time is no more," Marian explained as Myrtle and Lyra caught up. They moved through the tunnels, passing by several huts built with leftover materials and magic. Myrtle could see wide-eyed faces staring at them from the doorways as they passed by. "Over the centuries the Muggle World grew and changed, while we… we remained devoted to magic. After a while their technology grew to surpass even our most powerful spells. We remained separated from the Muggles, but a series of events struck blow after blow. First there was the war with the Dark One that lead to the death and resurrection of our God, Haripota-"

Myrtle clenched her mouth tight and hoped that she could pass off the half-swallowed laugh as a cough.

"-The Golden Age was short-lived, however, and after Haripota ascended our world was thrown into chaos. Political strife and civil war broke out followed by plague. Eventually our numbers dwindled and we were unable to sustain ourselves. The only option left was to expose ourselves to the Muggles and integrate with them. We had assumed that the Muggles had left the dark ages behind them and would be more accepting of us than they had been in the past. We were wrong. They attacked us and in the end their weapons proved more powerful than ours. The Muggles refer to it as the Great Revolution, they think it freed them of the shackles of their false religions, but they are unaware of what the war was really about. Fools! So unaware that their government has been lying to them all this time. The Muggles destroyed us and erased all evidence that we had ever existed. We are the only surviving Wizarding community left in the world."

Marian stopped in front of a hut that seemed larger and much more intricately decorated than the rest. "As a Weasley and a member of the family that bore His wife, I have led this community since my father died. On his deathbed, he entrusted to me the Pensieve. It contains the memories of our ancestors. I am told there were many Pensieves in the Old Days, but this is the only one known to have survived." Marian looked directly into Myrtle's eyes. "I wish to show you our history and what has happened since your time."

Lyra held up her hand as though she were in school and wanted to ask a question. "Wait, just how exactly are you going to show her these memories?"

"Pensieves are like stone bowls filled with memories," Myrtle explained. "All I have to do is stick my head in and I'll be able to see what they saw."

Lyra folded her arms and glared down at her. "Your hand got blown off after you tried casting a spell and now you want to stick your head in a bowl full of magic? That sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Well, what do you suggest we do then?" Myrtle demanded.

"It's simple. I'm assuming Marian has already seen the memories. All we have to do is get an Orbital Conduit and we can download the memories directly from her into you."

"No!" Marian protested. "I will not abide such… technology!"

Lyra rolled her eyes. "Fine. Then I'll stick my head in the bowl and download the memories into Myrtle."

"Myrtle claims that she was once a witch and knew Haripota before his ascension, but you… you're just… a Muggleborn," Marian protested, but from the way her voice grew weaker Myrtle knew that she would cave in.

"If it wasn't for me, Myrtle wouldn't even be here. She'd be stuck in some sort of weird loop with those other ghosts." Lyra smiled brightly at the old woman. "Honestly, this all couldn't be more fascinating to me. It's every historian's dream to discover something like this! I would love the opportunity to see these memories for myself."

For a moment Marian hesitated but then, with a soft sigh, she nodded. "Come with me," she commanded and led Lyra inside the hut. Myrtle tried to follow in after her, but she felt a hand touch her shoulder and saw Septimus shaking his head.

"Only those who are to use the Pensieve may enter the church," he explained.

With a pout Myrtle folded her arms and sat down on the ground, waiting impatiently for her friend to return.

It didn't take long. Within half an hour, Lyra emerged looking white and shaken. Myrtle supposed it must have been a little daunting for her. She probably expected that she would simply watch the memory like a Muggle film, not be fully immersed in it as though she were a part of it. Myrtle remembered going to the movies with her mother; before Hogwarts, that was the highlight of every week. But watching a film and living a memory were two very different things, after all.

"So, I guess Myrtle and I will just pop in to the nearest store for a Conduit," Lyra said, while reaching down and tugging on Myrtle's good hand.

"No, you will stay," Septimus corrected. "You must understand how dangerous it would be if anyone found out we are here. I will go and pick up what you need. You said you were going to get a Conduit?"

Lyra nodded slowly, "Yes. An Orbital Conduit to download the memories. Oh! And an Orbital Disruptor."

"A what?" Septimus asked.

"With Myrtle being damaged there's a chance that I'll get shocked. An Orbital Disruptor will keep the electricity from flowing into me," Lyra explained. "Just ask the shop clerk what you need and they'll be sure to get it for you."

Septimus nodded and with that he took off. Myrtle wondered if she should tell Lyra that she was still holding her hand, but the girl still seemed tense. If this was what Lyra needed then Myrtle wasn't going to say anything. She wondered if Lyra had seen a lot of fighting and battles when she looked into the Pensieve. She could understand being scared of that; during the Battle of Hogwarts, Myrtle had hid in the bathrooms, too scared to even find out who had won.

When Septimus returned Lyra quickly began setting up the Conduit. She kept the Disruptor in her hand while fitting a metal band around her head, taking the cords that trailed out from behind it and hooking it inside the small ports that could be found on the back of Myrtle's neck. As Lyra prepared to turn on the machine Myrtle was practically vibrating with excitement. She wondered how far back the memories went and if she would be able to see Draco-

Myrtle suddenly found herself standing in a strange-looking office. From the odd devices and machines she could tell that it belonged to a Muggle. There was a Muggle man sitting in a chair, holding his head as he stared at the floor, and a wizard in a blue cloak standing in front of him with a bemused expression on his face.

"You say you've come to us as allies?" The Muggle man asked.

The wizard nodded enthusiastically. "I believe it is time that our two peoples came together as one. Both the Wizarding World and the Muggle World can only benefit from this union."

"And… you've said we met before?" The Muggle demanded, finally looking up at the wizard standing before him. There was a hard glint to the Muggle's eye.

"Yes, Chancellor. We've actually met twice before, both times happened because of an unfortunate accident involving magic that attracted the notice of Muggles. Of course, I used a Memory Charm to wipe those memories from your mind in order to protect my people. Don't worry! It's completely harmless. It causes no ill effects when done properly."

The Muggle just stared at him, his face a frozen mask. "You just… wiped my memory ? That, in itself, isn't considered an 'ill effect'?" The Muggle leaned back and folded his arms as a look of amazement crossed his face. "You really don't see anything wrong with that, do you?"

Just as suddenly Myrtle found herself back in the London Underground, surrounded by the unconscious forms of the wizards and witches that inhabited it. Lyra standing there, the Disruptor in her hand beeping ominously, as she quickly disengaged Myrtle from the Conduit. "Quickly! Before they wake up! We've got to get out of here!"


	7. Chapter 7

Myrtle squealed when Lyra took hold of her arm and sharply tugged with more strength than she had thought the woman was capable of. Lyra wasted no time and started running before Myrtle could regain her balance, pulling her every step of the way. Myrtle watched as the ancient abandoned tunnels became more decrepit as they flew past, deeper and deeper into the black passageway until they were swallowed up by the darkness. Lyra paused for a moment, her expression bellying the confusion she felt at how lost and turned around they had become as she turned her head frantically in every direction in a desperate attempt to find her bearings. Myrtle could hear how heavily she was breathing, her panic threatening to steal what little breath she managed to suck into her lungs. Finally, Lyra focused on a direction and with a swift nod of her head exclaimed, "This way! We have to hurry! They should have woken up by now!" Lyra pulled on her arm, ready to run again, but Myrtle stood firm. Her heavy metal body refused to budge and sent Lyra – still fiercely holding on to her hand – to snap back towards her. With a sharp pull Myrtle ripped her arm out of Lyra's grip. The other girl stumbled from the sudden jerk and nearly fell face first onto the ground.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on!" Myrtle declared while crossing her arms and glaring at the other girl for good measure. Lyra opened her mouth, her expression one of pure incredulity.

"Don't you understand?" She sputtered. "They were never going to let us go! They couldn't afford to let their secret get out! They were going to keep us there against our will!"

"Not against my will!" Myrtle snapped. "I want to stay with them! I hate this new Muggle world with its electricity and weird machines and ugly clothes! I just want to go home!" Even as the words came tumbling out, Myrtle knew that going home was impossible for her. Her home was thousands of years ago in that little flat she had shared with her mother in a London that was long forgotten. She couldn't lie on her stomach on top of the fake oriental rug anymore, only half-listening to Band Waggon – her mother's favorite radio program – while idly flipping through one of her school books in search of the perfect hex for Olive Hornby with her mother sitting in a chair beside her as she tiredly ate her cold dinner. She had lost all of that the day she died.

"Myrtle…" Lyra said in that voice that meant she thought she was being a silly, stupid child. "These… people… they will do whatever they want to do, right or wrong. You didn't see the memories, Myrtle, but I did. They thought that just because they had the power to cast such spells that that meant they had the right. I saw just how far they are willing to go with my own eyes. Don't you understand how dangerous they are?"

Myrtle glared fiercely up at the taller girl. "Oh, and the Muggles are just so innocent, are they? The Muggles committed genocide and then tried to erase all existence of us!"

Lyra sighed and shook her head like a tired teacher with a dim student. "I'm not saying the Muggles were right. What they did was wrong as well… but I will not allow myself to remain here as a hostage in an attempt to 'make things right.'"

"Well, you don't have to!" Myrtle snapped back. "Leave! I don't care! I didn't even like being your friend anyway!"

"Myrtle!" Lyra protested, but before she could say anything more a scream echoed through the tunnel from where they had just come. Both girls turned quickly and stared into the darkness where they could hear the ominous sounds of shouting and scraping of flesh against stone. "What is going on?" Lyra breathed. "It can't be the Disruptor. It just knocks people out for a few minutes."

Myrtle didn't bother to answer; she just took off running back down the tunnel, but from the sounds of Lyra's boots slamming against the pavement behind her she knew that the other girl was racing to keep up. Myrtle had never been particularly brave when she had been alive. She never did get the nerve to stand up to Olive, after all, until she was dead and then it hadn't mattered anymore to anyone but her. Even dead she had never been this strong, but a lot had happened since then. With this body, what did she have to fear? It was not like the monsters could kill her twice. No, the only thing left to fear was the otherside and not even a Basilisk could send her there.

"Everyone up against the wall!" A man's voice rang out.

When Myrtle and Lyra finally stumbled their way back into the small Wizarding village they both gasped at the unexpected sight. Myrtle recognized the man immediately. It was the same police officer that had approached her above ground. He stood with four other officers with his gun drawn, pointing it at each person as they shuffled to one side of the tunnel. The officer jerked his gun around, completely befuddled by the sight of the strange wizards and witches. He had no idea what to make of everything that he was seeing.

"Sir! Look! There's two others!"

The officer whipped his head around to focus on Myrtle and Lyra. "You!" He exclaimed. "Just… what?" He looked so lost and unsure. Then, as if getting his bearings, the officer shook his head and a fierce look overcame him. "Just what exactly is this place?" He demanded. "Who are these people?"

Instead of answering the man, Lyra asked her own question. "How did you get here?" She inquired, as though oblivious to the silvery weapon cradled in the palm of the man's hand. Myrtle shook her head and rolled her eyes; for an educated woman who prided herself on her intelligence, Lyra could certainly be downright idiotic about the most simplest of things.

"I knew there was something suspicious about the pair of you the moment I saw you two," the man explained. "It," he jerked his head in Myrtle's direction. "Is the only unregistered android in the city. It wasn't difficult to track its energy signal. Anyway," the man jerked his gun towards the other villagers. "There's no use in resisting now. I've already called in for backup."

But the officer didn't see what Myrtle saw. She watched with rapt attention as Septimus shifted against the line of bodies and withdrew his wand from his cloak. With a quickness that surprised even the other officers, Septimus quickly dispatched two of the men with a Full Body-Bind Curse. The wizard aimed his wand at the Muggle leader just as the police officer turned his gun on Septimus. They stood there for just a moment in a tense stand-off; the wizard was fiercely staring the Muggle down, while the officer just looked at his wand in complete bafflement. The Muggle was completely unprepared for this situation and it didn't take someone like Lyra to figure out what was going to happen. Septimus smirked and opened his mouth, ready to give the final blow, "Petrificus To-" Septimus grunted in pain, unable to complete the spell, as the concrete right above his head exploded in a shower of rocks and dust. Some sort of strange energy beam had shattered the ancient wall. Myrtle knew that the beam had most certainly come from a Muggle weapon, but not the one the officer was holding. The wizard fell to his knees, his hair covered in a fine layer dust, as a sea of black-clad Muggle soldiers spilled out of the darkness and descended on the hapless village.

"Finally! The reinforcements!" The officer exclaimed as he dropped his gun, holding it by his side. A sudden scream erupted right beside Myrtle's ear and it took her a moment to realize that it was Lyra who was screaming. Everything had happened so quickly that she hadn't realized why she was yelling like that. Myrtle simply couldn't process what she was seeing. It just did not make sense. No matter how many times her mechanical brain replayed the footage in her mind's eye, she still couldn't make herself understand. A Muggle soldier in black had moved the gun in his hand away from Septimus and pointed it at the officer. He just shot the Muggle - one of their own. The man that had tried to help her hours earlier when she had been lost and confused now lay dead on the ground with a gaping hole in his chest. Myrtle's death had been painless. She had simply opened a door and looked into a pair of glowing red eyes and then that was it. She was dead. But the man must have suffered when he died. Myrtle wondered why the soldiers had done that. Why kill the people who were helping you? But she didn't dwell on it for long, the soldiers were already gunning for the others. They shot at people indiscriminately. It was like they didn't care who they killed because no one was going to leave these tunnels alive. The last two police officers fell alongside their leader and comrades while the wizards and witches screamed as they tried to duck from the killing blasts.

"Apparate to the school!" Septimus called out. "It's the only safe place left!" The wizard grabbed hold of his elderly mother and with a crack they were gone. The whole tunnel was filled with the sound of cracking as villagers disappeared one by one. Myrtle quickly reached for Lyra and hoped that the magic wouldn't cause her body to go into a complete meltdown. Even if she wasn't a robot, she had never tried to Apparate before. She knew how to do it, of course, but it was one thing to read about it in books and another to actually try to do it.

She held on tight to the older girl, closed her eyes, and Apparated to Hogwarts.


	8. Chapter 8

Myrtle blearily moved her glasses away to wipe her sleep-filled eyes. It was like a thick fog had suddenly come over her, leaving her lost in the mist. As her vision slowly returned she found herself kneeling alone on a floral rug in a frilly, overstuffed parlor. She knew this place. With a frantic jolt, Myrtle realized that she had to move her glasses to wipe her eyes. She reached up and groped the glasses perched on her nose. They were back! She hadn't needed them since becoming an android. To be honest, she hadn't needed them as a ghost either, but they had been a part of her the same as her robes and pigtails. Myrtle lifted her glasses away from her face and watched as the old, familiar wallpaper blurred like watercolor painting. She let her glasses drop and shook her head, trying to clear away the confusion. Her first attempt at Apparition had obviously failed. Not only had Lyra not Apparated alongside her, but Myrtle didn't even end up anywhere near Hogwarts. In fact, she had missed her mark by at least three thousand years. Myrtle sat in her mother's old parlor and wondered if ghosts – or robots for that matter – could go insane.

When Draco Malfoy walked in carrying a tea tray, Myrtle didn't have to wonder any longer. She knew she had gone quite mad. "Don't just sit there gawking at it," Draco sneered as he sat down in her mother's chair. "Take a cup."

Myrtle scrambled up to squeeze next to him at the small, round table. Without even thinking, Myrtle took one of the delicate, porcelain cups and drained it in one single gulp. She hummed happily as the hot, bitter taste exploded on her tongue. How she had missed this! Taste was definitely her favorite sense. She was already reaching for the pot again when she saw Draco take a delicate sip and wince at the flavor. "Merlin," he breathed. "I never knew I could taste poor before. Couldn't your mother afford anything better? Darjeeling, perhaps?"

Myrtle sniffed at the comment. How insensitive! "Oh, yes, make fun of my dead, Muggle mother. You know what? I've changed my mind. You're not my favorite boy anymore. I now like Harry best."

"Nobody likes Potter more than me," Draco commented as he loosened his green and silver tie.

"Have you seen the future? They worship him as a god! Anyway, he looked better naked than you did."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion. "Just how often did you watch people bathe in the prefects' bathroom?"

Myrtle hurriedly took a sip of her tea to avoid answering. Draco just rolled his eyes in that aloof, 'I'm above this' sort of way and muttered, "Pervert." They didn't say anything after that, just sat together in comfortable silence. Myrtle turned to look out the window and watched as the people scurried across the street, hurrying along to live a life that no longer existed. She saw a frazzled looking woman running down the sidewalk. Her hair had fallen loose from where it had been pinned up and there were runs in her stockings. Myrtle knew it would be years before she could get a new pair, not until the rationing was over at least. She wondered if the woman lived long enough to get that new pair of stockings. Maybe she had been struck by a car, maybe she was murdered by a boyfriend, maybe she had just been unlucky. Maybe she lived a long life and died in her bed an old woman.

"When are you going to let go?" Draco suddenly asked.

Myrtle turned sharply to look at him. "What do you mean?" She demanded.

The boy beside her simply smirked in a way that was both pitying and mocking. "You died a long time ago. Don't you think it's time to move on?" Myrtle looked down at the crochet tablecloth in an attempt to avoid those piercing gray eyes. She didn't answer, but Draco pressed on anyway. "Did you know you were the first real friend I ever had? I was in trouble and alone and scared and you tried to help me, as misguided as your advice may have been."

"Helping you take over Hogwarts seemed like a good idea at the time," Myrtle bitterly muttered.

"Well, we were children and not particularly intelligent ones at that. But I changed. I grew up. I became a better person and you're partly responsible for that. And you know what? You've changed too. The Myrtle I knew wouldn't have gone off to find the last living remnants of the Wizarding World. She would have run away, hid in some bathroom and cried, like I did all those years ago."

"What do you want from me?" Myrtle snapped, her breath hitching as tears – real tears – began to stream from her eyes. "Do you want me to follow you into a tunnel of light? Well, forget it! I was murdered! My life was taken from me and if I want to spend the next three thousand years as a ghost then what's wrong with that?"

"Myrtle, you won't last another five days, much less a thousand years. Ghosts need magic to sustain themselves and there's simply not enough left in this world. Why do you think there were there no other ghosts in those tunnels? They said they'd been there for centuries, you'd think they'd accumulate a few in the intervening years. It's because those so-called wizards and witches are barely able to produce enough magic to sustain themselves, much less a ghost. Without magic, you'll just stop existing. There won't be anything left. You were already fading by the time Lyra found you. You felt it, you know it's true, so stop being an idiot and come on already."

An idiot! Myrtle flounced out of her seat with all the angry drama of a wet kitten. "Just go ahead and make fun of me," she whined. "That Moaning Myrtle is such an idiot. Yes, that will make me want to go with you. Is this how you got Astoria Greengrass to marry you?"

Draco folded his arms and scowled at her. "Actually, it was the summer house I bought her while vacationing Marseilles that finally convinced her, if you must know. So, I take it you're not coming then?"

"No. I want to go back," Myrtle stated emphatically.

Draco's scowl deepened and he turned away. "Fine. Go ahead and stop existing. I didn't want to listen to you cry all the time anyway."

Myrtle was just about to make her own comment about boys who liked to cry in girls' bathrooms when she realized she was hovering above an empty field. In the distance she could see the ancient ruins of Hogwarts. They looked like a hollowed out shell, completely lifeless. How had she not notice that during all those years she was stuck in that place alone?

As Myrtle became more aware of her surroundings she realized that she could hear someone screaming. Myrtle looked down and saw Lyra clawing at her wrist. A smoking, twisted steel frame that resembled a human arm was wrapped around her wrist. The steel arm was connected to a smoldering, charred lump of metal. With a jolt, Myrtle realized that she was looking at the android body Lyra had given her. Myrtle's robotic hand had continued to clutch Lyra's wrist even as the spell had destroyed her body, ousting her ghost from the structure in the process.

"Help me!" Lyra gasped out, still tugging futilely on the bent metal. "It's burning me!"

Myrtle floated helplessly above her as panic began to take over. What should she do? She was incorporeal again, she couldn't do anything to help her friend. Should she try to find help? She didn't think a ghost asking a Muggle for help would do much good.

"Move your hand!" A gruff voice suddenly called out.

Myrtle looked to see Septimus running towards them with his wand outstretched. "Reducto!" He called out, causing the metal hand to break apart, even disintegrate in some places, letting Lyra's arm slip free. Myrtle pulled back with a hiss as she saw the red, pulpy mess that had once been the girl's wrist before the super-heated metal had burnt away the skin and flesh. Lyra tried to curl her damaged arm protectively against her chest as her pitiful keening reached a fevered pitch, but Septimus grabbed her roughly by the elbow and with a whispered "Episkey" the burn melted away to reveal smooth skin once more.

"T-thank you," Lyra stuttered out, her eyes wide as Septimus stood up and gave her a nod. Myrtle could see that Lyra was unsure of what to make of the situation. Septimus Weasley had kidnapped them after all and had been planning on keeping them underground in order to protect their secret. Lyra had said she had seen memories of wizards and witches misusing and abusing their power and now one of their own had healed her with a spell.

"There they are!"

Myrtle and Lyra turned to see a crowd of roughly fifty marching towards them and in front stood Marian Weasley, looking wild and furious like some avenging demon. Septimus quickly moved out of the way, his head lowered in deference, as Marian pointed her wand threateningly at the two of them. "You have destroyed us," she hissed. "I should have known better than to trust a Muggle and her electric pet."

"We didn't lead that policeman there on purpose!" Lyra protested. "And we were attacked just like you were! Those weird soldiers wanted to make sure no one survived!"

"Of course they didn't!" Marian raged. "That's what they do! I tried to explain! I even showed you! The Muggles want to wipe out our very existence!"

"Yes, I did see!" Lyra volleyed back. "I watched those memories! I saw how wizards and witches manipulated the Muggles around them without caring how they might affect them! Do you know all the good you could have done if you had revealed yourselves sooner? All the lives you could have saved, diseases you could have wiped out, but noooo! You couldn't be bothered with our insignificant Muggle lives! At least, not until you need our help, but by then it was too late. We had grown stronger than you!"

"Enough!" Myrtle shouted. She was tired of this. Merlin, now she remembered why she hated people so much. This isn't how she had wanted to spend the rest of her afterlife! She didn't want to deal with all of this. "You told me how oppressive the Government and the University are. They made you an outcast, a pariah because you dared to uncover the truth! How can you defend them like this? You have finally discovered the secret you were searching for! Are you going to say that the University was right and pretend that none of this happened?" Lyra looked down in shame and Myrtle rounded on Marian. "And you! You worship Harry Potter but I don't think you know one thing about him! He was always nice to me, even when I could tell that I was annoying him. He never said anything. He fought You-Know-Who because it was the right thing to do; I was there at the last battle- okay, I wasn't actually in the battle, I was hiding in the bathroom, but still I know what happened! He was given all the power in the world and he just threw it away. But you can't do that can you? Even knowing what You-Know-Who did you still can't see why Muggles would be afraid of you? Spells have consequences, even spells that you think are harmless." Myrtle thought back to the jinxes Olive Hornby would curse her with. They were harmless little pranks everyone said, just a good joke. Nobody seemed to care that they still hurt. She remembered how lackadaisical everyone had been when it came to spells that didn't inflict mortal wounds. Even Myrtle, knowing the pain and horror and humiliation that even simple spells like Engorgio can cause when inflicted on people, hadn't cared how other people felt when she jinxed them. Nobody had cared when it happened to her, so why should she care when it happened to them? It had taken Lyra to point it out to her.

Maybe Draco was right and she was changing into a better person, but she sure didn't like it. Everything was much simpler back when she just spent her time haunting Hogwarts. She had been good then; or, at least, she had always thought so. Thinking back now, maybe she hadn't been as nice as she always thought she was. Myrtle had been bullied and teased and mocked and she had hated the way Olive and those other girls used to make her feel, like she was worthless. But then she could also remember her own malicious comments towards anyone who would dare approach her bathroom. Her own mocking and apathy and carelessness. How good it had felt to get a little of her own back, to make people feel as bad as she did. Her haunting of Olive. Olive was a horrible girl, but Myrtle hadn't been very nice to her either.

She thought she improved though since meeting Lyra.

Is this what Draco had meant by growing up? She didn't know how she could do that. She would always be the same age.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Marian spat. "We're damned. This is all that is left. Our one sanctuary has been destroyed, our homes are gone, it'll only be a matter of time before they find us and finally destroy us."

Lyra bit her lip, her eyes darting from Marian to Septimus to Myrtle. She opened her mouth and sighed "Actually, there might be a way…"


	9. Chapter 9

Myrtle floated through the wall, nearly causing Lyra to jump out of her skin with fright. She fixed the ghostly figure with a glare before hunching back over the computer terminal, her fingers flying over the shimmering holographic screen. "Can't you go any faster?" Myrtle demanded. "They'll be here any moment."

"I told you, I'm a historian. Not an electrician, not a mechanic, and certainly not a technician. I only have a basic working knowledge of this stuff. For some reason, your data signal is a lot weaker now than it was the first time I put you in a robot body. It's making things difficult enough. I'm going as fast as I can," Lyra sniped back. Despite the steadiness of her voice, Myrtle could see how scared she was by the way her hands shook.

"Just get it going, I'll do the rest," She replied. Myrtle caught the sideways glance Septimus threw at her at that comment. He clearly had his doubts about Myrtle's abilities, but he remained quiet and kept his wand ready just in case. If she allowed herself to be honest, Myrtle would admit that she agreed with Septimus's clearly underwhelmed sentiments. She was more than nervous about going through with Lyra's foolhardy scheme. Could she really pull this off? It didn't matter; they were already going through with it. Lyra had faith in her. She had to try.

"You better be able to, because you're all we got. I'm hoping that your data – sorry, your consciousness – will be too advanced for the government to hack." She took a deep breath and stepped away from the screen. "Okay!" Lyra exclaimed. "That should do it! … Maybe."

"Maybe?" Myrtle demanded, her voice taking on a high-pitched, squeaky quality in the face of Lyra's nervous fluttering. "What do you mean-" Before Myrtle could question her further Lyra tapped at the hologram and Myrtle was gone.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Myrtle scrutinized the waxy, masculine hands placed on the table in front of her. This was… new. They were definitely her hands. Well, not exactly her hands, but they did belong to her. What happened? Her memory was a little fuzzy. She probed the foreign mechanical mind she now inhabited, trying to find the answers. She opened up the machine's memory banks, scanning recent events. An update had appeared on the robot's server, indicating new downloadable content, and like the mindless automaton that it was it had downloaded it straight into its processor.

Lyra had copied the "data" that had made up her ghostly form and uploaded it as a virus onto every single android that had come across it on its servers. Who knew how many robots it had infected by now?

Myrtle sat on the toilet lid, sniffling into her shirt sleeve as the tears ran down her face. She heard a boy whispering somewhere outside the stall and rolled her eyes. Couldn't a girl get some alone time to have a good cry anymore?

Myrtle shook her head at the sudden overwhelming memory. It had completely overtaken her. She quickly shut off the memory program and breathed a sigh of relief as the images stopped. She shook her head again, trying to dispel the lingering sense of fear and anxiety. That was so long ago; she felt like a completely different person now.

Myrtle stood up, feeling tall and powerful in the strange male body that she inhabited. She had a mission. Of course, she had no idea how exactly she was supposed to accomplish this. Lyra hadn't come up with anything other than "turn Myrtle into a virus and download her into every android." It seemed like that was all they needed, although now that they were here Myrtle realized they really should have thought things through some more.

Myrtle whipped her head around at the sound of clacking boots and saw a well-dressed woman in a brilliantly shimmering jumpsuit walk up to her. Her gaze was fixed on some device in her hand and she didn't even bother to look up at her as she addressed Myrtle in a clipped tone. "Take me to New Paris," she commanded. Myrtle just stared at her as she belatedly realized that she was in some sort of garage filled with strange hovering automobiles. There was a large circular opening in the high domed ceiling; the vehicles must fly up through there. Was she a chauffeur? A taxi? What did she mean "take her to New Paris"? Where was New Paris?

The woman finally looked up at her and frowned. "Why are you just standing there?" She asked. "Are you glitching?"

"Oh, um," Myrtle stammered, caught off guard. She swallowed thickly. It was weird hearing such a masculine voice come out of her mouth. "Actually, I'm here to tell you that your government is lying to you. Centuries ago there used to be a whole other place called the Wizarding World that was full of magic and spells – really! – but your world and their world got into a war and bad things happened on both sides. Your world won and tried to wipe out everything magical, and now they kill people if they discover the truth." Myrtle smiled at the woman. It was a pretty good speech if she said so herself.

The woman, however, backed away in horror. Whatever she was expecting Myrtle to say, that was obviously not it. All it did was alarm her and belatedly Myrtle realized why. The gestures were too smooth, her language was not precise, her face too open. Nothing at all like the robotic movements and fixed smiles of real androids. She inched her way towards the door, facing Myrtle the entire time and never taking her eyes off of her. It was no wonder she didn't see the man come barreling through the plastic archway. He slid into the woman and would have knocked her over if he hadn't caught her by the shoulders at the last second. He took one wild look at Myrtle and recoiled. "They're everywhere," he breathed. He hauled the woman towards the nearest hovercraft and pushed her inside.

"Wait! Wait! I'm not going to hurt you! I'm just trying to explain that your whole Government is a lie and that magic really does exist!" An android girl called out as she burst through the door. She was wobbled dangerously on high heels as she tried to chase after the man. The man didn't even spare her a glance as he lifted the craft through the hole in the ceiling and sped off into the night sky with the unknown woman. The two androids stood there staring up after them.

"Myrtle?" The male android asked. The girl nodded her head. "So, I guess Lyra's virus worked." Myrtle scrutinized the girl in front of her. "This is too weird."

The girl snorted. "How do you think I feel? Just wait until you get outside. There are hundreds of us out there!"

"Hundreds of Myrtles," she breathed. "What would you call that? If it's a pride of lions, a murder of crows, and a mischief of mice, what would a group of us be called? A weeping of Myrtles?" Before she could dwell on it for long the ground began to tremor and an ominous sound filled the air. It sounded like thunder. The two Myrtles stole a quick glance before taking off through the open door. They quickly left the garage and exited onto the crowded street.

Myrtle stood there in open-mouthed shock as hundreds of androids in all different shapes and colors pressed in around her, each one containing a copy of her personality. Holographic screens scrawled across the colorful buildings, illuminating the night sky. Each one bore the image of the same woman, a fierce-looking politician type in a hot pink jumpsuit. "I repeat," she stated. "Our planet has been attacked by a known terrorist cell. They have uploaded a virus onto our android servers, infecting them with a rogue AI. Please remain indoors and all avoid all contact. Our top technicians are currently working on the problem and have stated that they will be able to disable the virus within 24 hours. I have deployed the Military to destroy all hostile androids for your safety. Rest assured that this attack on the free people of Earth shall not go unpunished. The terrorists responsible for this are being hunted down as we speak."

The android girl tugged on her sleeve and pointed up at the sky. "Look," she whispered.

Myrtle looked up and saw a large column of smoke high in the distance. The glittery city lights reflected against the rising ash cloud, twisting it into shapes that spoke of dire omens. The crowd of androids suddenly shrieked, ducking down as something quick and black like a dart flew through the sky. It had gone by so fast Myrtle almost hadn't seen it. "That was a Military aircraft," a voice behind her breathed. Myrtle turned to see Lyra and Septimus staring open-mouthed where the craft had disappeared. "They'll be here any moment."

"I thought you said there wouldn't be a fight!" Myrtle exclaimed.

Lyra glared back at her. "Well, it was the logical thing to think! Androids outnumber humans 4 to 1! Who wants to fight against those numbers? Besides we're not exactly 'hostiles'! We just wanted to explain. Look, Myr-" Lyra broke herself off and shook her head. "Sorry, this is just confusing. There are too many Myrtles right now. I'm going to call you Chauffer Myrtle and you," she turned to the android girl in high heels. "Are now Secretary Myrtle."

"I'm a secretary?" The android girl asked. "Oh, I thought I was some robot hooker." She sounded disappointed.

Myrtle ignored her and scowled down at Lyra, looming over the now shorter girl. She didn't particularly like being in a male body, but the extra nine inches was definitely a plus. "My name is not 'Chauffer Myrtle', it's just 'Myrtle', or 'Moaning Myrtle' but I hate that name so don't call me that. I'm the real Myrtle here! The undead person ghost robot. Everyone else is just a virus, a copy." Despite what Myrtle thought was a very good rant Lyra and Septimus just rolled their eyes.

"You are not the real Myrtle!" Secretary Myrtle snapped. "And you're delusional if you think that! I'm the real Myrtle!"

"Look," Lyra stated holding up her hands in exasperation like she had already explained this dozens of times. "All of you think that you're the real Myrtle and at the moment there's no way for me to tell the difference."

"But you will eventually find out who the real Myrtle is… right?" Myrtle – Chauffer Myrtle – asked. There was an uneasy knot forming inside her. What if she really wasn't the real Myrtle? "How will you be able to find out?" She asked.

Lyra looked away at the question, absently scuffing her shoes against the pavement. Septimus threw her a quick glance before turning back to look at them. "Lyra assures me that all we have to do is disable the virus. The real Myrtle won't be affected since she is a ghost and not a copy."

"But won't that kill the rest of us?" Secretary Myrtle asked.

"You're not, you know, real." Lyra protested. "You're just a virus."

"You mean like how we were just a hologram?"

"Look," Lyra began, ready to batter the Myrtles with her superior knowledge, but she never got the chance to finish. Her eyes grew impossibly wide and she opened her mouth to scream. The sound was swallowed by a high-pitched whine that reverberated through the streets, splitting through Myrtle's head with a mechanical ache.

Suddenly Myrtle felt herself hurling through the air, landing hard against the ground. She felt some of the waxy, prosthetic skin peel away from her face as she picked herself up. Lyra was cowering behind Septimus who kept his wand arm raised in defense, protecting her from the spray of energy beams with a Shield Charm. Myrtle looked around at the attacking soldiers and panicking androids. Some were trying to fight back, slapping and kicking the soldiers. Very few came with their own built-in weapons, but Myrtle had never been very good at dueling and almost all of the shots went wild. Most of the androids flung themselves onto the ground, rolling desperately on top of the burning asphalt in a desperate attempt to put out the flames before it melted their metal frames. All around her the red flames grew higher. All she could see was red. "You shouldn't be here. This is the girls' bathroom," Myrtle proclaimed.

She thought she might have heard a girl's voice say, "What? Myrtle, what are you talking about?" But Myrtle knew she heard a boy talking. She opened the stall door and saw a pair of glowing red eyes.

No, wait, they only looked red because of the fire.

Secretary Myrtle stood in front of her, batting furiously at her arm to try and smother the flames. "I don't see why it had to be you," she sniffed. "I'm just as much 'Moaning Myrtle Melmotte' as you are. Better even, because I'm not fading away. Degrading, as Lyra explained it. But, I guess it's better to know the truth. See? I can change. Well, you've changed and I've just acquired everything that you've learned. I haven't even cried. Well, okay, I cried when that soldier shot at me, but that was scary. I haven't cried much, and that's the important thing." She finally gave up trying to put the fire out and sighed. "I guess I should do something heroic now. The new Myrtle does that right?" She shrugged her shoulders, not even bothering to care as the flames leapt from her arm to devour her shiny red hair. It didn't matter to her; she couldn't actually feel the way her waxy skin melted off in globs. "Well, I'm not really good at dueling or fighting or anything, so I guess this is all that I got." She sighed again and with that she took off running straight towards the regiment of soldiers, the flames building as each second passed by. They turned to bring her down, but she crashed into them, using herself as a flaming, metal battering ram. Other burning and damaged Myrtles picked up on the idea and began to swarm the soldiers en masse, creating a wall of moving fire. Their screams were beginning to drown out her own.

Myrtle sat on the toilet lid, sniffling into her shirt sleeve as the tears ran down her face. She heard a boy whispering somewhere outside the stall and rolled her eyes. Couldn't a girl get some alone time to have a good cry anymore?

Myrtle stood up, ready to give the boy a piece of her mind. She threw open the stall door and stared into a pair of

Brown eyes.

Lyra was crouched beside her, looking intently into her eyes. "Myrtle? It is you, isn't it?" She asked. The screaming had long stopped and Myrtle blearily wondered what had happened. "We've pushed the soldiers back. I don't know what's going to happen now. I suppose we're winning at the moment?" Lyra shrugged. "You keep repeating the same words over and over. The other Myrtles say you're reliving your death. Your data… I scanned it… it's a jumbled mess. There are sequences missing. Does this mean that you're going to turn into those ghosts we saw back at the castle?"

"I guess so," Myrtle murmured, feeling very tired. "Draco did warn me about waiting too long."

Lyra didn't comment on that, probably because she didn't know what Myrtle was referring to. She just scowled and blinked back furiously against the tears. "I don't want you to end up like that. I'm sure I can help you. What do I need to do?"

"You can't do anything," Myrtle confessed. "Draco said I needed to let go. How am I supposed to do that? It was my life. I can't just let it go."

"How old were you when you died?" Lyra asked.

"Fourteen."

Lyra closed her eyes. "That's too young."

Myrtle shrugged. "I suppose, but when I came back as a ghost no one seemed to care that I was dead. After all, I was still there wasn't I? Still annoying as ever. I just… I just wished they cared more…"

"I care," Lyra replied fiercely. "It may have happened thousands of years ago, but it still matters. You still matter. I didn't have any friends before you came, they all shunned me when the University turned me into an outcast. My family disowned me. But you were my friend. You matter. You matter to Septimus and the other wizards and witches and when the regular people learn the truth you'll matter to them too. You've done so much, you're… you're alive. And this Draco person? I'm not exactly sure who he is, but it sounds like he'd agree with me."

It felt like a fist was gripping her chest tightly. It hurt, but in a good way. "Thanks," Myrtle whispered. "For saying all that. It was nice to hear."

Lyra nodded and swallowed thickly, trying to blink away the thick tears that were already streaming down her face. "So, then you're leaving? We're saying goodbye."

"I guess I have to." Myrtle took a deep breath and closed her eyes. This was harder than she thought it was going to be, but not for the reasons she assumed. She wasn't scared of death anymore, but she didn't want to leave Lyra or this new world she had found. There was still so much to do.

When Myrtle opened her eyes again she found herself standing behind Lyra who remained crouched in front of the male android's body she had been inhabiting, completely unaware of the presence behind her. The android slowly shut down, unable to function on its own since Myrtle had taken control. Myrtle reached out to touch Lyra's shoulder, to tell her that she was still here when she heard a voice beside her.

"Took you long enough," he stated in that same arrogant tone she remembered hearing so often. It was the voice he had always used when he was trying to hide, to pretend to be something he wasn't. His green and silver tie was askew. Myrtle wanted to reach up and fix it. Draco looked around at the battlefield, watching as the remaining androids still functioning attempted to piece themselves back together. "I'm kind of glad my line died out. I don't want any of my descendents living in a world run by an army of robot Myrtles."

"World?" Myrtle echoed. "That virus has probably spread to all the human colonies across the galaxy by now. Just think of it: Space Myrtles."

Draco shuddered dramatically, but there was a crooked smile on his face. She remembered that too. He knew how to smirk and how to laugh at others with derision, but a real smile? That he hadn't been so good at, he wasn't used to smiling at all. Still, she was always glad when she saw it, crooked or not.

"She's going to be fine. They all are," Draco assured her.

"Yeah, I know."

Draco smiled again and offered his arm to her, betraying the aristocratic background that he had come from. He led her through strange, alien streets towards a building Myrtle had not seen for a long time. "Is that King's Cross?" She asked. "I thought the Muggles destroyed Old London."

"They did," Draco answered, although he didn't elaborate. He just guided her inside the empty train station. They were the only ones there. Myrtle couldn't remember a time when King's Cross hadn't been packed full of people, always shouting and running and laughing. And there it was: the Hogwarts Express. It sat there, ready to go, waiting. Like it had always been waiting for them.

"So, what's the afterlife like?" Myrtle asked as he pulled her into a car.

"Oh, it's a lot like living, actually."

The train gave a shrill whistle. Once. Twice. Then it was off, rolling down the tracks.

Fin


End file.
